


Attachments

by the_wrote



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Gen, Groping, aria is not her real name and she had a face change!, drunken antics, hints at former realtionship, mild violence, ya know just classic Aria shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 14:43:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wrote/pseuds/the_wrote
Summary: Aria has gone through a dozen names and even managed to change her face. A century after her standoff with Wrex, the two bounty hunters turned foe are reunited. Only Aria knows the full history between them and her life may depend on keeping it that way.





	Attachments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [White Aster (white_aster)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/gifts).



> I LOVE WRITING THESE TWO!! Thank you for requesting something between my two favorite grumpy characters, it was a pleasure to write. I hope you enjoy it!

Omega was a shit hole, but it was Aria’s shit hole - or would be soon- and nothing went down without her notice. Or her involvement. A group of mercs brazen enough to set foot on her station without sending word her away was unheard of and disastrously ill-advised. That one of the Patriarch’s shit stain commanders had suspected their presence first was the cause of a headache building up behind the bridge of her nose. 

“Where are they now?” she asked Galya.

“Spread thin throughout the station.” The batarian blinked rapidly, the lower pair then the upper pair, and directed Aria’s attention to one of the terminals. “A few of them are in _Afterlife_ right now. Looks like they are about to settle in.”

There was a triad of them, one krogan and two humans. One human had just come back from the bar, drinks in hand, while the other lounged - feet on the upholstery - in one of the sequestered booths away from the dance floor. Their images were fuzzy, and their forms kept disappearing and reappearing in a flurry of static. Galya pounded the terminal with a closed fist, a familiar tick that never did anything to fix the resolution but always satisfied her.

“First they come poking around, now they sit back on their asses to get a drink.” 

Galya shrugged in response, the chances of her saying the wrong thing too high to warrant a real answer. The timing of their arrival was unfortunate, and the charged air in the security booth only made the situation feel more volatile. Aria was nearly ready to set in motion a final push against the Patriarch, and she was sure that a few of the commanders above her suspected something. Without enough evidence, they wouldn’t dare say anything to their boss - Aria was one of his most trusted advisors. 

Mercenaries showing up with false chits and IDs was an unnecessary, and potentially dangerous, distraction that anyone could spin into a conspiracy plot to a paranoid gang leader.

The mercs were here to kill someone, but it didn’t matter who. They had gambled coming here without asking for permission, everyone in the sector knew the rules. It was a gamble they would cash in with their lives. 

“Maybe the Patriarch doesn’t know,” Gayla suggested. 

Aria huffed and turned to head out the door, motioning with an open hand for the screens to be shut down. “If Mino knows about it, the boss knows about it. And don’t fucking call him that where others can hear you.” It was a joke the two shared in private, calling the crazed krogan in charge of their lives the Patriarch like they were all one big family. The booth was safe, had always been safe, but Aria was in no mood to play around.

“Sorry.” Gayla’s nostrils flared and she lowered all four eyes to the ground, repentant as always. “What are you going to do?”

“Jettison the trash off the station,” Aria replied. She turned to speak over her shoulder as the door opened, amending in a low voice, “ _My_ station.”   

\- x | x -

Not even two pairs of doors could stop the music from pouring out of Afterlife, the thrumming bass coming up from the floor and cascading down the walls. The club was her home, her office, and the loud grind of music that heralded her coming was a swan song for others.

She had made it remarkably loud for good reason. So much went unnoticed when blanketed by a crescendo of hazy beats. The flashing lights, the gyrating asari - it all had its purpose. 

She was greeted with a rush of hellos and curtsey nods as she stepped through the main doors. Her retainer of guards, always vigilant, were at her side as she walked through the lower floors of the club. 

“Cover each of the exits,” she barked at the two salarian guards that flanked her. “And stay out of my sight. I’m off the clock.”

“Yes, Aria.” Each guard peeled away from her side as she headed toward the stairs, one pulling the others away from her and the other off to spread the word. Being the personal favorite came with benefits, and her demands for privacy were met with concession rather than suspicion. 

If all went well, _she_ would be the one picking out favorites. The thought made her smile. 

 _One problem at a time_ , she reminded herself as the booth came into view. It had been no more than 10 minutes since she had left the security room, but already one of the humans was swaying on his feet. He stood in the center of two curved, pristine leather couches, arms outstretched above his head and flopping back and forth.

“Easy now, Huey,” the other human was saying. She was close enough now to make the words out. He eased the drink from the drunk’s hands, careful not to upend it over his head as he brought it down to the table.

“Pathetic,” the krogan bellowed and took a swig of his drink. It was ryncol - Aria could smell it from a dozen steps away.

“You look like you’re having fun,” she purred as she approached. She had been a dancer in the club before she had taken over, and the familiar swagger and honey dripped voice unfurled from where she kept the tools of manipulation stored within. How lucky she was that they had sent the humans to scope out the bar; they were always so easily distracted. 

The krogan turned to watch her approach. The movement was slow, like he didn’t care, but calculated, and the strobing light from above reflected off his red eyes. Aria faltered as those eyes swept over her, the tilt of his head that meant she wasn’t a threat before he turned back to face his companions. 

She paused outside the booth, took a moment to draw a breath through her nose. She hadn’t seen Wrex in nearly a century. 

The dancing one - Huey she had heard him called - pulled her back in. “We are celebrating!” he proclaimed. The declaration was punctuated by a whoop, and he reached for the drink that had been taken from him. 

“No.” The other human drew his brows together, the smooth lines of his young face distorted in a frown. 

“What fun,” she said, ignoring the sober friend to focus her attention on the idiot who celebrated before completing the job. “What are we celebrating? Pay raise? Divorce?” Each word took her a step closer until she was in the circle of couches. “Two of my favorite things.” 

“Never married,” he said with a slow grin, “and yeah, a pay raise of sorts. Good pay for a good job.” 

“You better watch your friend, Timms,” Wrex warned from where he sat. “Words like that get you killed places like this.” The cup of ryncol sat empty at his feet. He had scooted forward on the couch, elbows on knees as he careened to look around Aria like he was hoping there was table service. But Aria knew that look.

“What sort of place would that be?” she asked innocently. _Reckless_ , she thought. It would be best to focus her attention on the humans; she wasn’t going to get anything out of Wrex. But she couldn’t help it, it felt so familiar, prodding the surly krogan until he snapped. 

Wrex grunted, glanced her over again. She looked like all the other asari that worked in _Afterlife,_ clad in a form-fitting dress that exposed her belly and back. There was no reason to suspect she was anything other than what she appeared to be; an asari in her maiden years, dancing the night away at a club before the matriarch genes made her soft. 

“A shit hole,” he finally said, turning once again away from her. 

Aria smiled. So he was the same Wrex. A century older maybe, countless patterns from new scars and wounds hidden beneath his armor, but Wrex. The last time she had heard him talking about a shit hole, they had been planning to murder the other. Omega wasn’t so different from that old salarian science vessel, though it had a functioning reactor. 

“Do you give dances?” the drunk one asked. He had been watching the two aliens with a look of petty jealousy creased between his brows.

Timms opened his mouth, ready to disagree with whatever his friend was about to say, but the suggestion suddenly seemed agreeable. “I mean,” he began, looking over at Wrex, “we have the night off?” 

Wrex snorted and leaned back on the couch, seemingly satisfied that the only thing the humans were going to do was hit on a dancer. “You two idiots spend your credits however you want.”

This was good. She looked over the two humans with more care, sizing them up. Muscled forearms and thick necks suggested they knew how to fight, but at least one of them couldn’t keep a rhythm, something Aria had learned through centuries of merc work meant he would be a sloppy and unskilled fighter. 

“Sure,” she said after a moment, smiling big enough to show purple gums. “Not here though, there are booths downstairs that are a little more private.” 

Huey smiled back, the drink slowing his response time by a few seconds. She would take him first she decided and offered her his hand. 

“I go first!” he yelled as if it were his idea, and placed a clammy hand in her own. The young merc allowed himself to be pulled away from his friends, forgetting the age-old adage that there was safety in numbers. 

\- x | x -

Huey had not been the one to make a mistake, Aria reflected. In fact, Huey had played her like the overzealous idiot she had been, and now she was scrambling to correct the situation. _Safety in numbers_ , she thought bitterly. _That’s why they came in numbers._

How Timms had gotten past the lock was a feat on its own, but she was most impressed in the drunken facade put on by Huey, who had stumbled and tripped and giggled the entire journey to the room. He had even immediately removed his shirt as the door slid closed and locked behind them, exposing a hairy torso that was _not_ bulletproof. She could smell the alcohol on him even now, his dilated pupils and sloppy smile suggesting he shouldn’t have been capable of throwing her across the room with as much precision as he had.

They had come to Omega ready and were confident they weren’t going to fail at whatever they had been hired to do. Wearing civilian clothes was an overly confident move that might have made Aria laugh had they not secured the upper hand. 

“I think you all have the wrong idea,” she said slowly, never taking her eyes off Wrex. Or, rather, not daring to take her eyes off the shotgun he held a foot away from her chest. 

“Cut the shit,” Huey snapped. “I think he’s going to be real sad,” he added with a change of tone, his focus shifting to his friends, “when he finds her dead in her own club. Lieutenants dying are a sure sign that the rug is about to be pulled out from under you.” 

_Shit._

Wrex, never one for small talk, growled at the human to shut up. “We aren’t in the clear yet.” 

Aria tested the strength of the shackles binding her wrists behind her back. She ran a finger over the cold metal, estimating the thickness and how much of a charge she would need to blow the lock. 

Timms must have seen her shift forward, or else he could read her mind. “We got those made especially for you, _Aria.”_ He drew out the sound of her name, rolling the r in an unnecessary display of egotism. “We hear you are an especially talented biotic.” 

 _I’ll show you what an especially talented biotic can do in just a minute_ , she thought. 

“So,” she began, propping her feet on the platform across from the couch and leaning back against her hands, “who hired you to kill me? Was it Mino, that scheming turian bastard.” 

“We don’t care; we only bother to do what the credits pay for. We aren’t detectives.” 

“Hmm, I guess not.” Aria ran her tongue over her bottom lip, flitting her eyes between the three. Wrex hadn’t moved since taking up position just out of reach with his shotgun. Timms had a pistol out and pointed at her head. Huey was pacing, neither his weapon nor his attention focused. 

When Aria had been another person, had worn another face, she had always wondered if she would have to pay for the things that she had done. The centuries had done wonders for her though, and she had long stopped wondering when she would pay for her crimes and instead started to ask when she would get what she _deserved._

Omega was hers, it was what she deserved. The people, the money, the squalor. Mino and some of the others making moves against her was only the first stage, and eventually, the Patriarch would begin to suspect she wasn’t as loyal as she seemed. For some time, she had seen the final encounter drawing closer and closer, even with her influence still scattered across the station. But now she was getting something she deserved, her prize for the decades she had toiled in _Afterlife._

She had been given the chance to take out Mino, the only thing that protected the Patriarch, a zealously loyal bodyguard. Hiring mercs to kill her was one thing, but how angry he would be to discover the mercs on the station had different orders….  

 _“_ You look good, Wrex.” She angled her body away from him slightly, her heart pointed at Timms and not the barrel of Wrex’s gun. “Last time I saw you, you had earned a limp by walking into that devious little trap I had left you in the corridor outside the mess hall.” 

Wrex faltered, his beady eyes narrowing further and a deep breath changing the position of his gun for a fraction of his hearts beats. Just enough. 

Aria surged forward on a pulse of biotic energy. She had directed a shockwave into the couch, the power throwing her and the pillows forward with enough momentum that she felt her head rock back from the force of whiplash. Timms was pelted with pillows and her body, the shock from one and the force from the other knocking him flat on his ass. 

She recovered before the others, another well-timed pulse of energy splintering the shackles that bound her wrist. Taking stock of everyone’s position, she rose to her knees and slammed her fists into the ground. The floor buckled, shards of crumpled metal and talons of energy spreading away from her. Timms was thrown against the wall, his knees folding against his chest as he went airborne. Huey followed a similar trajectory, though his arms and legs went wide and he landed like a starfish against the door. 

Only Wrex kept his footing well enough to stay standing, though by now he had lost aim and his shotgun was pointed towards the ceiling, one arm out as he struggled to keep balance on the bucking floor. 

“Mino is an ill-informed, half-assed idiot who never knows everything he should,” she informed them. “I’m more powerful than even he knows.” 

Huey was struggling to his feet, his hands searching in vain for the gun that had been dislodged from the holster on his back. “If you had a future, I would recommend taking the time to play _detective_ before accepting a job.”

“Wha-“ the pretend drunk tried to ask, but she interrupted him, throwing an orb of biotic energy at his chest. When it connected with his bare skin, the energy ruptured, tearing him apart into smaller and smaller pieces until the room was decorated with a Huey shaped splatter. 

Pivoting her attention, she kneeled next to the barely conscious Timms. He was drooling, thick strands of saliva and blood falling from his bottom lip onto his chest. She snapped his neck with one quick motion, a mercy she gave to him only because he hadn’t been the one to grab a handful of her ass on the way to the room. 

Satisfied, she stood and raised her hands in the air, her head tilted in mock confession. “Wrex, let’s not do this again.” 

Wrex hadn’t moved from where he had resettled, though his gun was held steady between his hands and once again directed at her. “Didn’t think it was possible that you could be alive,” he admitted, “but somehow I knew you weren’t dead.” 

“I’m hard to kill.” She gestured to the broken human at her feet with an open palm. 

The two stood with only the ever-present beat of _Afterlife_ thumping for a moment, each taking time to appraise the other. She had changed a lot since they had last battled, and now that she could look without fear of being caught, she noticed that he had, too. He had a chunk of his lip missing, the once unreadable mask of his face bearing a permanent sneer. 

“I lied,” she finally admitted. “You look terrible."

 _There_ was her Wrex. He bared his teeth and laughed, the familiar boom of his vocals resonating in the pit of her stomach. “I liked your old face better. This one makes you look old.” 

“I look old? And that’s coming from a weather old bastard like you.”

Wrex holstered his shotgun, his hands finding purchase on the sloped curve of his hips. The open-mouthed smile and glint in his devious red eyes changed the plains of his face into something both familiar and forgotten to Aria. There was a time when she had seen that look often, though only after a night at a shitty bar in a shitty part of the galaxy, the sweat and blood of battle gluing them together.

“The volus who hired me all those years ago is dead,” he said, “which means that contract has expired.”

“Oh, I know.” She laughed and waved a hand in the air between them, indicating it was old news. “I killed him. Could never figure out what I did to make him so mad.” 

“You always had a way with people.” The smile faltered, teeth covered by his customary thin-lipped frown. Back to business so soon. “I guess you’ll want a copy of the contract,” he guessed. He had always been good at knowing what she wanted, a skill that had maintained his position as her most _versatile_ colleague. 

“And I’ll keep the bodies. We have plans.” 

Wrex shrugged, either not caring or unwilling to hear what those plans were. With a few taps on his omni tool, he sent the contract over, the details of what had been expected of them laid out. The other mercs had been hired only to serve as distraction, and their job was merely to loiter around the station in an effort to provoke Aria into confronting the three planted at the bar.

A ploy that, much to her chagrin, had worked with near seamless success. 

Mino hadn’t been so foolish as to sign the kill order with his name, but after a few choice edits were made and the contract was sent to Patriarch, it would be easy enough to trace back to him. 

Satisfied, she kept the connection between their tools open long enough to initiate a transfer of credits.

“Humph,” the krogan reflected. “That’s not even half of what I would have gotten paid for killing you.” After a pause he added, “Did manage to ring the full bounty out of the volus, though. He even kept me on for a while, paranoid you had somehow survived.” 

“Turns out he cut you loose prematurely.” A languid smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she settled herself demurely on the couch amid the ruins of the room. “You didn’t even do half the job for this contract, I had to kill these idiots myself. Maybe you’ll have better luck next time.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Soignee who provided both edits and a title.


End file.
